


anything for you (in the dark)

by heliocentrics



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Dark-ish, Exhibitionism, F/M, Peeping, Sex with a stranger, Stalking, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Voyeurism, vampire meet cute i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17266040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliocentrics/pseuds/heliocentrics
Summary: A general rule of thumb for vampires like Kylo Ren that you don’t linger in one place for long— he's has long overstayed his welcome in a sleepy college town. But, unexpectedly, Kylo feels rooted to the spot, immobilized by the presence of a woman he doesn't know. And the longer he stays, the more he's drawn to her— and she to him.





	anything for you (in the dark)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work I've been sitting on since the release of the [Reylo Charity Anthology](https://reylocharityanthology.tumblr.com/)!! Working on this anthology was such a pleasure and I'm so thankful to the amazing mods for putting it together. I hope you guys enjoy this quick little one-shot I put together for it!!  
> WARNING: There is mild passive stalking/peeping in this from Ben. Although harmless, I would recommend avoiding this work if that's something that could be triggering to you!! Again it's extremely harmless and not invasive, but just a warning.
> 
> Title is from Siegfried by Frank Ocean— definitely drew inspiration from the atmosphere of the song so feel free to listen along as you read!!

She stands alone, under the gauzy light of a streetlamp bordering the bar.

The street is mostly empty, the occasional drunken pair tripping together down the sidewalk, entwined by lips and limbs while they move together as one. The only cars that pass by are bright yellow taxis, arriving to take intoxicated patrons back to their beds to sleep off the liquor. From one building to the next, oases of light and color and sound separate the deep, dark void that persists around them. _Night_. Now the girl leans up against one of them, the burgundy of the brick contrasting against her pale white skin, accentuating the deep chestnut of her curls.

She’s glancing out along the street, ducking her face when a couple stumbles by, occasionally checking her wristwatch or fussing with her hair. He has half a mind to approach her, speak to her, but he knows what would come next. What would _have_ to come next. His mouth on her neck, teeth grazing over tender skin, gently breaking the flesh. He has to purse his lips, blink once, then twice, to clear the image from his mind.

In truth, he has no idea why he’s here, lurking in the shadows of a washed-up college town’s bar crawl. He hasn’t hunted here in months— sticking to gas stations and rest stops far off the beaten path usually keeps his record clean and law enforcement off his ass. The only explanation he can give for his presence here is instinct— something he can’t explain drawing him to linger against an alley wall and watch the streetlamp across the gravel and concrete that separates him from this girl.

She’s fiddling with her nails, apparently waiting for someone; a passing glance over her shoulder, back towards the bar, confirms his guess. The fall night is cold— not that he can feel it—and she wraps her shearling leather jacket closer to her tiny form. Kylo’s unbeating heart aches in a way he can’t explain.

He can’t tear his eyes away, can barely move from his position in the shadows. If a vampire is hunting, it’s a general rule of thumb that you don’t linger in one place for long— Kylo has long overstayed his welcome. But he feels rooted to the spot, feet glued to the ground by her presence. When the breeze moves in just the right way, he can catch a whiff of her scent— sweetness like honey and citrus blossoms, cut with a tangy bitterness, like crushed mint and jasmine tea steeped too long. He closes his eyes to savor in the sensation, imagining peeling her open like an orange, drinking her down. It takes everything in him not to dart across the street and possess her, body and spirit, there and then.

When he regains his vision, he realizes he’s been caught in her gaze. Her eyes are glued to him, unblinking and intense. From this distance, she must only be able to see the color of his eyes, the pale white of his skin. She doesn’t flinch, though. Doesn’t show any sign of fear. In fact, she smiles— the barest upward turn of the corner of her lips, but to Kylo, it’s everything. It’s not polite or perfunctory, either. It’s inviting. She’s looked him up and down faster than he can blink, and as he sucks in a breath, her smile gets wider. His chin juts out slowly in mute recognition, eyes lowering to slits, his best attempt at acting casual.

Suddenly, the club door opens, breaking them both from their shared reverie. The tinny sounds of synthesizers harmonizing over thumping bass beats floats through the open door, and out walks a man with caramel-colored skin and dark, curly hair. A bouncer tugs the door shut behind him, and quiet descends upon the empty street again, save for the steady thump of bass, like a heartbeat thrumming beneath their feet. The man— shorter than Kylo, he notices smugly—runs a hand through his curls, puffing the shoulders up on his letterman as he walks towards the girl. _His target_.

The girl must hear him approach, because she turns around from her position on the corner— her position mirroring _him_ — and smiles up at the man, beckoning him into the shallow alley between clubs.

“You’re late,” she whispers, but Kylo hears, as if the words were meant for him. The thought of her whispering to him— her hand resting lightly on his shoulder as her heels raise her up to meet his height, her warm breath ghosting lightly against the shell of his ear— makes his cock twitch.

“Tabs don’t close themselves,” Kylo can hear the man say, but he ignores him, slinking further into the shadows as he keeps his eyes on them. He should go— he’s already lingered too long, and _she_ _knows_ he’s here watching— but that same instinct, that absent rush, has already turned his muscles to stone. Kylo’s realistic. He knows she’s alone, and defenseless, with a guy she probably doesn’t know too well. He’s killed enough innocent, unsuspecting women to know that when the fight begins, it doesn’t take much muscle to bring a girl down, blood-sucking teeth or not.

_It won’t hurt to stay._

The man wastes no time in getting down to business— his lips are on hers before she can react, backing her up against the alley wall. From this angle, Kylo can only see their profiles; his nose rubs against her cheek as they kiss, his hands reaching beneath her shearling jacket, feeling her up and down. She melts into his embrace, kissing back with equal fervor. 

It doesn’t take long before the man moves down her neck, tongue tracing lines across her veins, leaving bites and marks where he pleases. It feels almost unfair to Kylo, the way this man gets to touch her— though he probably knows her better than Kylo does. He can’t help but imagine his tongue on her skin, his hands around her ribs, up and down her back, lips tracing a trail down her open chest to close around her breast. His cock hardens in his pants, and he feels woozy.

Rey turns her head to the side, facing Kylo as the man laves at her neck and up to her earlobe. She shudders under his touch, fingers tangling in his hair, eyes fluttering shut in mounting ecstasy. After a prolonged sigh, she finds Kylo’s gaze again, and again, Kylo expects fear, maybe this time disgust. He receives the opposite.

She smiles, eyes hooded as her head ducks down, still watching him.

He doesn’t know how to react. The other man keeps kissing her— _Poe_ , he remembers her whispering his name— deeper and harder now. He tastes blood on his tongue— _not helpful_ — and realizes he's bitten through his lip, a steady trickle of the blood inside him leaking into his mouth. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and refocuses on the pair across the street. Rey still has eyes on him, in between fielding kisses from Poe and planting them herself. It’s the darting glances, when she thinks Poe won’t notice, that send a spark of heat to Kylo’s groin. He only has a moment of hesitation before he slinks further still into the shadow of the alley, and a hand lingers on his crotch, palming his erection. Rey spies him, eyes shifting down to where his hands are now fervently working over the material of his pants, and her grin widens. 

He can’t wait any longer, can’t resist it. Just as Rey grips Poe’s erection, Kylo is unzipping himself, reaching for his own cock, already throbbing. He can see Poe’s hand snake under the hem of Rey’s dress, and she hikes herself up soon after, allowing the man access to her sex as she grips his own. Kylo can’t help imagining his hands on her clit, soaking wet for him, moaning and writhing against the brick, leaving scrapes and scars as she twists upon the rough surface. He pumps himself, slowly at first, and then with an intensity that surprises even him. The thought of her hands on him, full red lips closing around the head of his leaking cock, tracing her tongue against a throbbing vein, nearly undoes him then and there. His lips purse tight against the sharp points of his teeth to keep from biting his tongue clean through, but the bloodlust is there, heightening his senses, his instincts begging for a hunt. 

He’s nearly to that edge, where he’s just beyond breaking, when Poe buries his face in the pale cream skin of her chest, pulling down the neckline of her dress to bring a nipple to his mouth. Rey head tips back in ecstasy, lips curling back in a cry of pleasure. Kylo thinks of that scent, sweet but bitter, lingering in the pores of her skin; he imagines his nose nudging against her breast, drinking the _freshness_ of her in. He can hear her heart beating out a fervent pattern, a quiet wind whipping her hair up and around the blush of her face, a signal of the warm, ardent life beating through her.

Then he can’t hold himself together any longer. His vision whites out, and he holds back a curse as he whips his cock out, letting his spend leak across the dirty bricks of the bar he leans against. His head is pounding, a weakness seeping into his bones. He’s hyper-aware of his fangs, nearly poking through his lips now, and he brings his hand to his mouth, bites softly into the pliable skin of his wrist. His blood moves slower than humans, tastes stale and metallic on his tongue, but it’s better than the aching fatigue, the blur at the edge of his vision, the constant reminder of the sharp teeth on his lips that always comes with hunger.

Once he’s regained control of himself, he slides his gaze back across the pavement, towards the pair in the shadow of the club across the street. They’re laughing together now, in each other’s arms, his low timbre accenting the sweet, pealing sound of her breathy giggles.

“I’ve gotta get home,” Poe whispers, the sound carried to Kylo’s ears on the low autumn wind. “Need a ride?”

Rey shakes her head. “No, I’ll stay here. Gotta make sure Rose gets home okay.” She grins under his lips, gives him one more kiss.

Kylo turns away; he needs to hunt. He can hear the two separate, Poe reaching into his pocket for his keys as Rey’s heels clack down the street. Scaling up the wall and over the roof of the building next to him is easy; it’s the taking flight, leaving Rey alone on the street, in the club, that’s the hard part.

He perches on the curved rooftop of the bar across the road, watching her silently, willfully out of sight. _Just until she gets back inside_ , Kylo tells himself. _Then I’m gone._

Rey walks out of the alley and back onto the main sidewalk. She rubs at her neck, readjusting her dress, pulling her jacket tighter around her. When she glances across the street, towards where he’d been lurking just moments before, Kylo feels a pang in his chest, and he has to grip the concrete lip of the roof with long, curving fingers to keep from sweeping down and catching her in his grip, spiriting her off to suck her dry.

Rey takes a step forward, peeking down the alley, and then sighs, her whole body heaving through the breath. 

She nearly looks as if she’ll march right into the alley itself, but then thinks better of it, turning back down the sidewalk and marching towards the club, hands in her pockets. When she goes back inside— that same synth beat bopping through the air for just a few moments— the door shuts behind her with finality. 

Kylo scowls, cursing his hesitation. _She was looking for you_. Before he can continue down that train of thought, he presses the soles of his feet into the vaulted concrete of the roof, bounding into the air and down into the nearby forests to feed.

***

Four nights later, he returns.

Initially, he had attempted some form of resistance. He fed and fed again, until he was near bursting with blood, pushing thoughts of Rey from his mind every time. Part of him figured she wouldn’t come back, that she had only been passing through. Part of him _hoped_ it was the last time he’d see her. She’d been like a sore in his mouth, unable to avoid or ignore. Yes, it would be easier to move on, live a simple existence unmarred by the complication of her presence.

But with Kylo, nothing is ever easy.

So he positions himself on the corner of the bar where he’d lurked just days ago, keeping a careful eye on the alley across the road. A neon beer sign in the liquor store around the corner flickers on and off, casting the dark gravel of the road in glimmering shades of bright blues and reds. He’s been here for an hour or so— night has long since fallen— and he silently monitors the crowds of people coming and going from the slew of bars hugging the street. The clouds, grey matter floating past a starless sky, grow heavy above him, threatening a storm.

One hour passes, then another. Kylo spends a few minutes tossing around the idea of leaving, but eventually he quashes it, knowing he has nothing else better to do than this. _Even if I left, if I fed_ , he thinks to himself, _I would spend the entire night thinking of her._ Even if she never shows, taking up sentry is a better use of his time than pretending she doesn’t matter to him.

That thought, fleeting across his mind, shocks him for a moment, rooting him to the spot. _She matters to him_. Rey, a name he’s only ever heard in another man’s mouth. Fear is cold and hard in his gut; it has been a long time since he’s considered any sort of sentimental feeling about someone.

And yet, still, his instincts beat through him like a heartbeat. His teeth poke at the soft flesh of his lips. He knows what he is.

As if by magic, to break him from the prison of his thoughts, Rey comes around the corner, her bag slung over her shoulder, that same leather jacket wrapped around her small form. The wind blows harder now, and she hugs herself to keep out the cold, head ducked down to avoid the brunt of the chill. She looks behind and around her, checking for strangers following her, though the streets have mostly cleared by now. It’s just after eleven, and most patrons have either already found a bar to stay in or are working their way home.

Again, Kylo can’t bring himself to move. He wants to sweep across the road, stop her in her tracks and whisk her away. But he knows he can’t, for more reasons than he can name. He watches her make her way down the sidewalk and towards that same bar, walking quickly, when suddenly—

She stops. Turns her whole body towards him. _She’s spotted me again_ , he realizes. _She’s waiting for me._ She’s not smiling, the way she’d been before, but her eyes are focused, inviting.

The first step forward is the hardest. He has to rein himself in, keeping a tight leash on the pulsing part of him that begs for a taste of her. One black-soled boot hits dark gravel, stained by a light sprinkle that is just beginning to fall. Another one follows, and soon he’s crossed the street, not bothering to watch for cars that won’t come.

He steps up onto the other sidewalk, keeping a respectable distance from her. _What am I doing?_ he thinks, stifling a mirthless laugh. _She’s seen me jerking off to her from across the street. Fuck respect. Fuck any preconceived decorum we ever considered necessary to_ this _._

She opens her mouth to speak, but at that moment, the sprinkle that has begun drifting down from the sky turns to a full on downpour, rain coming down in thick droplets. Rey’s words turn to a surprised laugh on her tongue, and her head tilts up to look at the sky, her neck fully exposed to him. Her lips are slanted up in a grin, a perfect prim nose curving up to the sky, but still he can’t help watching her neck, the subtle bob of her throat as she laughs, strong veins beating under bright, warm skin. Her eyes close, eyelashes curling against the tops of her cheekbones, and she breathes in deeply, then exhales with that same scent of citrus and jasmine, honey cut with mint, floating on her breath.

Kylo can’t help it. He knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s too soon, knows nothing will come of it, nothing good _can_ come of it. But he’s gone too far to turn back now; he’s stood post in the alley, crossed the street, stood inches from her. There’s nothing that could stop him, not even his own doubt. 

So he takes a step forward, places a firm hand on the nape of her neck, and kisses her.

It’s not much at first— he’s only acting on instinct, a different kind of instinct he hasn’t listened to since he’s been turned. Their mouths are closed, lips pressing against one another, Kylo’s hand on Rey’s neck is the only thing anchoring him together. Then, just as his mind catches up, and he tries to pull away, bestow flushed apologies and flee the scene, she reaches up, her hands on his cheeks, and deepens the kiss, the flat edges of her front teeth grazing against the soft skin of his lips. He mirrors the movement, heels of his hands suddenly parallel to her jawline, keeping her there with him, until—

She pulls away.

Steps back. Wipes her lips with the back of her hand.

Kylo feels his heart sink, but another smile is creeping onto her lips.

She takes one step forward, keeping only inches between them, on her toes to reach his height, close the distance between them. Just when he thinks she’s going back to his lips for another kiss, she curves slightly to the right, and a slender hand creeps up to rest on his shoulder. He closes his eyes, waiting, anticipating. He can sense more than just her scent at this proximity— it’s that steady, pulsing wetness, reverberating from her core, rich like fruit to bite, taste, devour.

“Five minutes,” she breathes into his ear, that same bittersweet scent making its way to his nose. “Find me inside.”

He’s still relishing in their closeness when she backs away, and by the time he’s collected himself and regained his vision, she’s gone.

***

Before the club door has closed behind her, the overwhelming stench of tobacco and sweat hits her nostrils, the air pungent and musky. The stinging scent of alcohol, lingering with the sticky sweetness of mixers to swallow, comes after. Rey takes it all in stride as she walks towards the bar; it’s more than just familiar to her, it’s home.

The club is crowded for a Friday night— bodies clash and collide on the enamel wood dance floor in the center of the room, situated next to two large black speakers. A disco ball sparkles above it, and bright lights circle around the room occasionally, cutting through white, curling smoke of cigarettes and pot that permeates the atmosphere. Just as Rey approaches the clear plastic countertop of the bar, a wooden stool opens up; she quickly claims it, hopping up and signaling down the line to Poe for a vodka tonic. Only then does she allow herself to process what happened outside.

In truth, she’s often been quite the prude. After a life spent in foster care, her entire existence borne of an unplanned pregnancy, she’d wanted nothing to do with guys or sex, thank you. Only once she’d had a few years of college under her belt did she trust herself enough to start seeking out guys, and even then it was more courting than blind hookups. A chaste kiss on the cheek at the end of a dinner date was about all she let it amount to— usually. The club is a different story; Hanna Boulevard is a grab bag of bars and taverns, but night after night she’s found herself gravitating towards the stone brick building only labeled _CANTINA_ , in faded orange lettering. It’s a game, luring people into her trap, at first just kissing, and then grinding and yanking and putting her hands where they shouldn’t be. She has regulars, like Poe, but the more of a stranger she can nab, the better. She’s rationalized with herself that after a lifetime of loneliness, of desperately searching for belonging and finding none, that the comfort a few bodies brings is big enough to fill that mawing void.

He is different, though. Something about him is magnetic, drawing her to him without thought or consequence.

Poe slides the vodka tonic towards her, a glint in his eyes she can’t think about right now. She performs a quick scan of the club, looking for a tall man, pale skin, black hair with a turtleneck to match. It’s in vain, though— if he’s already here, he’s not in her line of sight. The drink goes easy down her throat, the bright bloom of the alcohol cutting through her.

The music picks up suddenly, deep synth tones vibrating over a steady drum beat. As if on instinct, Rey scoots off the barstool, pushing back her empty cup, and moves lithely through the throngs of people swarming the dance floor. It’s easy to get lost in the crowd, let go and become one in a sea of other warm bodies, people with lives and hearts and stories she will never know. Her head bobs in time with the beat, swaying from side to side, closing her eyes to bask in the moment. She doesn’t know how long she stays like that, swaying and moving with no other thought than the music in her ears and the people around her, until she feels something.

Two hands, one on either of her hips. Pressing her back.

The hands are strong, firm; long fingers wrap around her waist, the tips nearly reaching her core, while the palms rest squarely on her sides. They’re familiar, too. She knows who this is, even if it’s just by the feel of him on her, and a smile spreads across her lips. Instantly she melts into his touch, leaning into him, feeling the curve of his body against her backside. He smells of corroding sweetness, like sugar poured over rusting metal. Her own hands snake back, finding purchase on two firm, muscled forearms. He’s strong as a stem, and when her fingers brush across the pilant skin of his wrist, he’s as soft as withering petals. 

The further she backs up, the more of him she can feel, and eventually the curve of her ass collides with a hardness growing in his pants. She gasps at the feel of it, the _size_ of it, but doesn’t linger on it, can’t linger on it. She feels that same hunger she’s always felt, the hunger that’s drawn her to guy after guy, person after person, but it’s barely a need anymore— it’s a craving, a desire, an _instinct_. She remembers him, lurking in the shadows across the road, eyes the color of blood glinting at her, inviting her, as she reached towards another, a fire in her gut. Now, that feeling only emboldens her, fanning that growing flame.

The music gets louder, the lights flashing faster. She’s not operating with logic anymore; any part of her brain that doesn’t run on instinct, on impulse, has checked out. With a deft, experienced hand, she reaches for the metal zipper of his pants and tugs down, searching blindly for his erection while still grinding against him. He must understand immediately, because a hand moves lightning-fast from her waist to his groin, pulling out his cock and guiding it towards her hand, setting the pace. She has to bite back another gasp, just from rubbing the length of him, but keeps going, determined. He throbs in her grip, the low sound of his voice eking out rough moans reverberating in his chest and against her back. Just the feeling of him, against her, in her hand, sends a rush of euphoria between her legs, tightening her body at the root. She tries to relax, flowing against him to the pulsing beat of the music, but his own enthusiasm— the growling in her ear, his hands venturing down the core of her— seems to only stir her more, hastening the pace her palms have set against his cock. An arm wraps around her— the muscles of his forearm taut against the skin of her throat, hand gripping her shoulder, holding her close.

The sea of people around them seems to break slightly, allowing the two of them some semblance of space, sheerly alone in the depth of their intimacy. But the bar is still packed; Rey still feels the occasional shoulder or elbow graze against hers. She knows some people have noticed, are giving them a wide berth for it, but she doesn’t care— the idea of witnesses to this sends a whole other shock of excitement through her.

After an eternity, he must not be able to resist any longer, because he lifts up the skirt of her dress— Rey silently thanks the heavens that she’d opted out of underwear tonight— and aligns himself at her rear. She braces herself, gripping at one of his arms, the fear building on her gut only adding pressure to that aching slickness gathering at her cunt.

When he enters her, the pain is blinding, beyond anything she knows, followed by an icy pleasure that has her biting back her screams. Her eyes screw shut, forehead creasing. She bites on the skin of her lip, drawing blood, as she feels strong, cold hands sneak around her torso, holding her flush to him. The thought of him around her, inside her, brings a flush to her cheeks she can’t explain away. The more he thrusts, the harder he presses against her, the more her heart seems to slide through her ribs, beneath her skin, away from her. Every time she’s fucked another person, craved their touch and received her reward, her heart centers in her chest, glowing and bright, a warm and steady pulse between her breasts. Now, the organ is a ghost, still pumping in time to the beat around them as it floats away from her, out of reach. Still her blood flows through her veins, a pulse setting her pace like a tempo.

He pumps harder, faster, his muscles tense and taut beneath her skin. Just when she thinks he might come, almost anticipating the moment when he’ll soak her with his seed, his hand grips her by the neck, pulling her spine up until her back is flush against his torso. She feels his breath flutter against her jaw, his fingers trembling but strong. The pain, with him still inside her, is blinding, but before she can react, can kiss him or move against him, he pulls aside her jacket and sinks his teeth into the pliant skin of her shoulder. 

It doesn’t hurt— not really— but she knows he’s drawn blood, and that it will leave a mark. He thrusts one more time against her, and then he’s coming on her, in her, the space between her legs dripping with his spend. His last push against her is quick, and he sucks at her with his lips, teeth retracting as his mouth pulls at her skin, tongue laving over open wounds. His breath is fast and hot, lungs rising and falling like the ribs of an accordion, mechanical and disjointed. When he pulls out, she gasps, suddenly empty without him, and as his mouth leaves her shoulder, his tongue creeps up, leaving a trail across her neck, and leaves one chaste kiss on her earlobe.

Rey doesn’t realize she’d lost perception of the crowd, the music, until it all flows back to her. Everyone around her is still dancing, seemingly taking no notice. She feels a wave of shock roll over her, and with it, a wave of undeniable bliss, vibrating with the closeness they still share, what they have shared, in full view of strangers and friends alike. Her heart jumps into her throat with a twinge of excitement, and she leans back into him, an exhale racking her frame.

His arm is still twined around her, though— she doesn’t even know his name, she realizes, but dismisses that train of thought before it derails— holding her close. Another kiss is placed behind her ear, just along her hairline. She can feel his lips— cold lips— pull back as he smiles against her hair, and the action sends a chill down her spine that is more than just pleasure. _It’s fear_ , she understands dimly. _I know he’s different. There’s something about him that I know isn’t good. I have known. But.._.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Despite herself, she smiles back, her head lolling back against his neck. “Okay.”

***

They decide to go back to her place— Kylo would prefer not to take her to his own dwelling, but is able to graze over that quickly enough— which happens to be just a few blocks down from Hanna Boulevard. The walk over is uneventful, save for the occasional bump into each other. Kylo finds his hand entwining around hers, a simple offer of protection, though she leads the way. It scares him, the way she disarms him. He’s never had any sort of sympathy or emotion for another human like this— _makes feeding harder_ , Phasma had told him once. But he knows that letting her go free, letting her fingers unravel from his, would be just as bad.

The apartment’s a walk-up, on the third floor of a white brick building, and Kylo has to hold back from pinning her against the wall of a stairwell and taking her again on the landing. The taste of her blood still lingers on his tongue— sweet and rich like honey, with a smoky musk he can’t place. The wound will heal, he knows— it’s more of a nip, just a taste, but even then he worries of the consequences. He shouldn’t have tasted her at all, but just before his climax, it had been all he’d been able to think about— the hot blood, rich and sweet, coursing through her body, warming the cold iron of his pale skin. 

Finally, they reach the wooden door, marked by two gold-plated numbers Kylo already knows he won’t remember, and Rey fumbles for her key, pushing the door open with an elbow. She could almost be described as chatty as they enter the main room, quickly telling Kylo that she’s got a roommate, Finn, who’s gone for the weekend. She breezes past a half-tidy kitchen and an unremarkable sitting room, Kylo following closely behind, before she goes down a narrow hallway that leads to her room.

The door is still ajar, and Kylo can see that the bed is tidily made, with starch white sheets. It’s normal, as far as bedrooms go— dark wood dresser, a blanket thrown on a plush rose armchair, closet doors jammed shut, with a few clothing hangers sticking out. He goes to make a second sweep around the girl’s room, but before he can, he hears the door shut, and Rey’s hand snakes up and around his neck, pulling him down to her for a kiss.

Kylo closes his eyes, lashes brushing against her cheekbones, letting her tongue trace against his lips. He can feel both her arms hooking around the base of his neck, slinking up on her toes to reach his height. After a moment of pause, silently passing between them, she bounds up, catlike, and crosses her ankles at the base of his spine, anchoring himself to her. On ancient instinct, his hands reach grasp at her thighs, her back, cradling her to him. They kiss for a moment, tasting each other, tongues and lips and mouths clashing and laving. It doesn’t take long for him to step forward, toss her on the bed, leaning over her. Her dress and jacket come off effortlessly, pulled over her head and tossed on the floor in one fluid movement. She’s laid bare for him to devour, to ravage, with that soft, lively glow in her eyes, her cheeks, her skin. He could rip her apart in seconds flat, drink his fill and leave her for dead. _I would peel back your skin and take your bones in my grip, crack them in two and suck the marrow from them, until I was holding nothing but a shell of you._

He knows he won’t, though. He’s already taken her once tonight. Now he’ll be gentle. He’ll be kind. And if he can be steady, and patient, and play his cards right, he’ll do more than just bleed her dry.

When his lips start at her neck and trail slowly down, pausing to mouth and lick at her nipples, her abs, the jutting bones of her hips, her hands tangle in his hair, a quiet moan filling the air between them. She’s limp in his grasp, like putty in his hand, and as he molds and shapes her, he shapes her pleasure, too. When she begs him to kiss faster, to put his lips on her cunt, he slows down, _tsk_ ing against her skin. When she keens at the feel of his fingertips on her clit, the apex of her sex, he moves the hand across her thigh, repositioning her legs instead. She’s slowly undone with anticipation, the presumption of it humming through her skin. Her thighs squirm, toes curl, and he’s only just begun. 

“If I taste you,” he warns, voice low and gravelly, breath ghosting against the lips of her dripping cunt, “you have to promise not to scream.”

He feels the reverberations of her fervent nodding through the mattress before he hears her. “I promise. Please, I promise.” The supplication sends a rush of blood to Kylo’s cock.

His lips trace against her thighs, inching up, and up, tongue leaving a thick trail of saliva. When they finally reach the hypersensitive skin of her lips, she clenches against him, and he can hear her suck in a breath, whining quietly. 

“You’re so good,” Kylo muses, taking his sweet time as she agonizes under him. “You’ve been so patient, so obedient. You gave me a show, that first night, let me see you. You let me take you, let my cum drip from your cheeks, marking you in front of all those people.” He places one slow kiss on her cunt, like a gift, and she shudders, whimpers. “You’ve given yourself to me, body and blood, soul and skin, without question or doubt.” Another kiss— longer this time— another shudder. “You were made for this— made to be mine.” He clicks his tongue. “And it’s a shame— you won’t even have a name to shout when I’m fucking you senseless.” 

“Please,” she whispers, breathes into the air. “Please—”

His tongue draws a line from the base of her cunt all the way up to her clit, and her words transition seamlessly into a strangled cry that stirs his growing erection. Her hands are fisting in his hair again, fingers unclenching long enough to nervously flutter across the skin of his neck. He sucks at her, tongue tracing against her walls, moving in time with her erratic twisting and writhing. She’s gasping for breath, back arching through her spasms, and Kylo knows the hands he has glued to her thighs, anchoring her in place, are going to leave bruises. Still, he licks at her, letting his mouth explore every inch of her cunt a hundred times over. Her wetness is blissfully bitter on his tongue, and he indulges himself in a sharp nip at one of her lips, letting the blood leak in and mix with her slick. His mouth guides her through her orgasm, drawing it out of her in waves, letting her body rise and fall against his touch. He doesn’t know if she screams or not— waves are rushing in his ears, drowning out any sound except the frantic pulse thrumming under her skin.

He pulls back for a moment, nosing at her clit before wiping at his mouth. “You taste so good, baby.” He feints a gasp for breath, though they must be well past the illusion; she knows he’s something else. “You’re perfect. All for me.” His temple rests lightly on her thigh; eyes slide shut. “I would do anything for you.”

Her climax has left her nonverbal; a heady moan is her only response, and Kylo can’t wait any longer— he stands up and unhooks his belt. His pants are on the ground seconds later, joining a polished leather jacket he had doffed early on. It only takes a few strokes up and down his shaft to bring his cock to its full height, and then he leans forward, canopying Rey as he lines himself up.

He pauses, bending over her, a hand tangling in her hair, cupping a hand on her cheek. “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” 

She nods, eyes hazy, lips a slant of a smile. 

When he enters her, it’s as if he can _see_ her instincts kick in, her squirms shifting into a rhythmic riding as she takes his cock. He’s still bent over her, and the more he thrusts, the closer they both get. When the distance has closed, she reaches up to cup his face with both hands, kissing him slowly before bracing herself on either of his shoulders. She holds him well, still keening quietly, taking his thrusts with a wild confidence that only makes him go faster. When he thinks he’s mere seconds from coming for the second time that night, he opens his eyes, focusing long enough to see the mark he’d given her on her shoulder, steadily leaking a trail of blood back onto the sheets. His thrusts get faster, Rey’s voice going higher, and just before he’s undone, he springs forward, closing his lips around the wound and tasting her life.

The sweetness of her unravels him, and he shudders through a climax, seed coating the walls of her dripping cunt. He cries out, and she cries with him, hands resting plaintively on the expanse of his back as he collapses against her. They breathe against each other for a moment, his exhale her inhale, his in her out.

When he finally rolls off of her, a hand raking through his hair, he feels the burn of her gaze on his skin. Small beads of sweat still coat her skin, wisps of hair curling around her face in a frizzy halo, but her gaze is sharp and intent. “You’re so cold.”

He nearly jumps, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows nervously, but she rolls over, lays a hand on his naked chest. “Your skin.”

His eyes don’t leave hers. “Yes.”

Her brain seems to mull over this information, ruling out the possibilities of mistake or mishap, moving on to the next unignorable truth. “Your heart doesn’t beat.”

He can’t speak; he nods.

“You bit me. With fangs, not teeth.”

His gaze, still glued to hers, is the only assent she receives.

She pauses, eyes softening, and then the corner of her lips creeps up in a smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid.” She breaks eye contact to lay her head on her forearm, staring at the shuttered windows. “I think I knew, even on that first day, but it didn’t scare me.”

He has nothing to say to that. He can only roll towards her, propping himself up on an elbow. The pads of his fingers trace tentatively across the handsome curve of her back. They must be cold against her skin, but Rey doesn’t flinch.

“I know what you want.”

He stops his fingers, then resumes twice as slowly. “You do.”

It’s not a question; Kylo has seen the quiet resolve of this girl— this woman.

“Take it, then.” Her breath is low, her voice dusky. “Have me.”

His lips on her neck, his fangs buried in her throat, are the sweetest sensations he’s felt in his long, long life.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on twitter [@ben69solo](https://twitter.com/ben69solo/)!!


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